Test My Theory
by WritteninLove60
Summary: Greed. That is what caused this. Hearts so mangled in their own selfish ambitions, they lose their humanity. It didn't make sense how that greed created that one night. Between those two people and their two different worlds. For one night the loss of humanity created the environment for the greatest expression of love. The night that wold haunt Elena Gilbert for all her existence


Elena Gilbert had a theory. A theory that stated nothing ever happened in her small town of Mystic Falls, Virginia. She had enjoyed the town when she was younger when she would sit on her Mother's bed and watch her dress in big fancy gowns and place make up on her face so perfectly. It all seemed like some sort of fairy tale, those high society parties. Not anymore, since she had reached the age she could attend these parties, she now knew their exact purpose. Parties were just another excuse for the town to all meet and fill everyone on the blanks of anything they had missed, gossiping harlots.

Elena had this revelation three months ago during her first event after her parent's death. Her friend, Caroline, had been convinced the event was exactly what Elena needed to get 'back to normal'. The problem was made surprisingly evident the moment Elena walked into the grand building. Everybody turned and stared, people shared a whisper with the person that currently resided beside them. Her best friends Caroline and Bonnie had both walked in with her but it didn't bring any source of comfort. Elena knew what the town's people were saying and it made her stomach churn. It had been six months and they still had nothing better to share with each other. It was a boring old town and she was exhausted. Physically she became a social recluse and emotionally Elena was obviously barely holding together.

That is why she fell in love with the club she currently was dancing at. Elena had stumbled upon it one day when she had been walking. She didn't really drive anymore but she did walk. Often she would spend hours walking and her aunt would find her and attempt to get her in the car and get her to go to her bed to sleep. Her aunt didn't understand, nobody understood, she could not be in that house and she could not be in a car. So she would just walk aimlessly and without reason but it got her away. Then just before she was going to give up her habit due to blisters and pure exhaustion she had found 'Club 666'.

The first night she had walked in and had been rather timid and shy. She was three feet away from her conscious winning out and reminding her how this place was not 'her'. Elena was depressed but she was still on the brink of sanity and she knew that a dance club was not her scene. Then as if seeing the inner turmoil a man had come over and asked her to dance. She had planned to say 'no', her father had always warned her of boys like him. Boys with those smooth words and their smug arrogance. He had always told her they were dangerous, nothing like all the safe boys in her small town.

Then again that is what made it so tempting.

Before Elena realized she had said 'yes', she was being directed to the center of the dance floor. Her mouth knew better than her brain just how tired she was of her boring little town. Elena craved for feeling to return to her. That is why when she danced she fell into a weird form of addiction. A need to return to this place.

A feeling had returned that she had almost forgotten existed. Not because of the first man who had asked her to dance but because of who she became. While she twisted and turned and moved to the deep base of a song, she was no longer little orphan Elena. Nobody gave her looks full of pity and compassion but the eyes that now stared at her had want and desire. As she danced she didn't have to examine all her words before they were spoken, knowing that one wrong word would send her loved ones on another 'fix Elena' tirades. Instead she danced and turned off those retched emotions and for a few desperate hours every evening she felt alive. It was her own personal salvation

She did not tell anyone where she went every evening and they had stopped asking as long as she returned that night. She learned the lines that she could not cross. Return before the sun rose, scrub the stench of alcohol off her skin, and never bring strange men to the house. The rest her aunt let slide because of her grief and because she was in better condition than her brother who had turned to drugs to find solace.

So in attempt to forget her own personal hell Elena continued to dance in the dim lit crowded room, barely aware of the people that brushed up against her and the men that tried to steal her attention. Until one man pulled her close to him and started to show her body attention with his hands. Elena did not even open her eyes until his hands began to dart a little too south. In a moment she opened her eyes and pushed the man away from her.

For a moment fear reached the back of her throat as she saw the anger in his eyes. Obviously he was not told no very often. Swiftly she turned on her heal and was about to make her exit. Only to be stopped as fingers grasped around her wrist and pulled her back. Forcing her to look at the anger that was still floating in the stranger's eyes.

"Let me go."

Elena stated quietly but prayed that it came out firmer than it felt. Instead the man pulled her close and whispered in her ear.

"You can't dance like that and expect me to believe you didn't want it."

The words made Elena shiver unwillingly and she tried to tug her arm out of his grasp. His fingers only tightened as if it was now a challenge to keep her near him.

"Kol, the girl said let her go."

A deep voice came from somewhere behind her but the strange man released her from his grip. Elena turned around to face the man who had come to her rescue. It was a man with sandy blonde hair and a smile that sketched dimples into his cheeks.

"Sorry about him. He has a bad temper."

Elena looked at the ground a mumbled a measly "its ok" before the new man with the dimples stretched out his hand.

"Klaus Mikaelson"

For a moment she stood frozen as she finally noticed his English accent but quickly recovering Elena held out her hand and let him grasp it in a firm handshake.

"Elena Gilbert. Thank you, but I really should be going."

Not wanting to waste any more time in the club that night Elena quickly pushed through the crowd and made her exit. Not leaving enough time to hear the brothers.

"So?"  
"Yeah, She will be perfect."

Damon Salvatore was not a pencil pusher. Damon would admit that he was slightly egotistical and did not play well with others but he was not somebody who wanted to spend extended periods of time behind a desk. The bureau had hired him because of his skill on the field. They liked him for his ability to handle a unsub with the same precision and finesse as he handled his gun.

A man had come and spoken to his criminal justice class during his freshman year of college. He had joined the Federal Bureau of Investigation two months later and until a month ago he had not looked back. That was because up until a month ago he had been a golden boy. His success rate was well above 90% and his ability to assess a person in a matter of minutes made him desired. Being desired only boosted Damon's already large ego but then everything that played out in the last year put that all into question. He was now being investigated for going rogue and even his closest friends did not want him anywhere near their cases. So he sat behind a desk and worked on paper work. Instead of going out and doing what he loved he was forced to do all the paper work all the others were too busy to do. Damon sighed in frustration and brushed his hands through his hair. He was not doing anybody any good sitting behind a desk. Talent was going to waste. Damon knew that he was more annoyed with himself than anybody else because it was his fault. Damon had made the choices that led him to his fate. He knew better than anyone the guilt that lay solely upon his shoulders.

A loud shrill sound pierced through the air and brought Damon out of his self-pity and self-loathing. It took him seconds before the phone was at his ear and he was breezing through his greeting.

"Agent Salvatore, this is Alaric Saltzman and I was hoping to have a meeting with you at 2:30 today?"

A man who went straight to the point, Damon could respect that. The name of the man sounded familiar and for a moment Damon searched his memories to place it. Alaric Saltzman head of the human trafficking task force; they had worked an assignment together when he first started as an undercover operative. He remembered the man had a passion for what he did and they had formed a working friendship.

"Where?"

"My office, sixth floor."

Damon nodded his head in response and agreed audibly as he was already packing up his stuff. There was no way Damon was going to get any paper work accomplished when there was the very good chance he had just scored his big chance to get back out in the field. Maybe somebody finally believed that he had not committed the crime he was being investigated for. With that thought Damon let out a low grunt, fat chance of that.

Finally the time had come and Damon knocked before entering the office of Alaric Saltzman. The room was pristine. It held a wooden bookshelf, stocked with books, and a large wooden desk with a chair set on either side. The view that was practically painted outside the large windows almost made Damon sick with envy. Before Damon could examine the room further Alaric looked up from his work and stood as he stretched out his hand. They quickly exchanged a handshake and pleasantries before Alaric offered Damon a seat. Just as Damon was about to question his reason for the meeting Alaric tossed a file in front of Damon. In silence Damon opened the file and browsed the contents. It was full of young missing girls, all from small towns, and all attractive.

"We think these girls were possibly all taken for the same human trafficking ring that is run inside Chicago."

Alaric answered Damon's unasked question

"Who is running it?"

"Unfortunately that is about as much intel as we have been able to get so far. We have been trying to get in undercover for over a year now. All our roads have been dead ends."

"Where do I come in?'

Another file was throne in front of Damon with a simple response from Alaric "all our dead ends". The moment Damon opened the file he had to hold back a gag. There were at least a dozen photos of men beaten and thrown like rag dolls under a overpass.

"We keep thinking we have a lead with a man who could possibly lead us somewhere and then they end up dead."

"You are really selling this case."

Damon said sarcastically as he naturally rolled his eyes.

"Look Damon, I decided our best bet is to send somebody in undercover. I have spent too much time on this case and they are getting more brazen with the snatches. We have had five girls disappear in the past month that could possibly be being sold into prostitution by these guys and we have the chance to possibly stop now. I need somebody who has good instincts and is not already on another case."

"and it doesn't hurt that the FBI no longer cares if I die on the job."

"Maybe this can be a way to show your loyalties, prove your innocence."

Damon looked down at the file of girls for a couple moments and thought about all the accolades he would receive if he helped take down such a big operation. Looking up at Alaric he smirked and simply stated.

"It looks like I am moving to Chicago."


End file.
